… without you, dear Reader, remembering these two things: 1) yes, I will be unearthing old stories (I’m in my late 40s, and some of the stories are so old as to be dead, but I’m all for a good zombie-type of revival) along with the current crop o’stories of my life as an inefficient teacher; 2) my mistakes are my own fault and no one else’s. Oh, and 3) I can’t really count, it seems, but anyways, nothing that happened in my young life can be examined without accepting that my dad was constantly trying to figure out what the will of God was. Constantly. The will. Of God. The God. No small ‘g’ involved.
Is this a spiritual blog then? No, not really. Or maybe I should write, no, not exclusively. It might come up, I don’t know right now. But I was formed by someone who thought that the will of God could not only be known but could also be followed. Can you imagine the fear and hurt and crazy that was left in the scum on the wake of that single-minded ship? In some ways, I had a great father. In others, uhm, well, I am left with no true telling.
Okay, buttons, I still love you. I hope you love me too sometime.